First, let me say that I know it isn’t Wedneday…
But, it’s March, and life is crazy for me during this month. There’s always lots of musical stuff going on, and this year is no exception. Plus we’re crazy busy at work these days (which is a good thing I know), and my husband has been getting tons of contract work from his former employer (also a very good thing!) but it means I’ve lost my household helper. I had become quite accustomed to having someone else doing the grocery shopping and the vacuuming and paying the bills…
However, all things work together for good, or so I’m determined to believe.
And the other thing about March- it’s my birthday month.
Oh yes indeed, in the midst of all the fun and games, I’ve grown another year older. So, indicidentally, has the Byline. Because I started this blogging thing as a 50th birthday present to myself, four years ago, and it has been the best present I ever gave me.
Let’s talk for a minute about birth-days. I’ve always totally loved my birthday. As a child, it was the occasion of much hoopla. There was always a big family party, involving all my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Then there was my “friends” party, which was one of the coveted invitations of the spring season at Horace Mann Elementary. Back in the 60’s birthday parties were not the dime a dozen occurrence they are in the 21st century, so my parties were quite the event. My mother threw a mean party, too, with a hot lunch, two kinds of cake, lots of games, and great prizes. One year our table centerpiece was a Dream Barbie complete with prom dress and accessories (my friend Lisa’s older sister took that one home.)
Of course, as one ages, the significance of birthdays wanes. What is the thrill in getting another year older? After 50, it’s just more wrinkles, more hot flashes, more grey hairs…and less energy. So this year I decided to look at my birthday in a different way. I’m completely disregarding my age, since, after all, it’s just number. Instead, I’m focusing on me, on all the things I’ve accomplished and all the dreams I’ve yet to see realized.
I’m rather proud to have made it for 54 years, to be married to a man who still loves me, to have raised a healthy, intelligent, handsome son, to have a good relationship with both my (still living) parents, to have the love and respect of friends and colleages, to have work that I enjoy (most of the time). I’m still standing, as the song goes, and I’m happy to be here.
In the years ahead, of which I hope there are many, I want to write more – maybe polish off those novels that still languish in the bottom drawer. I want to play more music, maybe get involved in another small ensemble of some sort. I want to spend more time with my family (including the grandchildren I’m still confident will arrive someday), and travel more (getting started on that one with a trip to Paris in October!)
This year’s birth-day itself was rather low-key. I worked all day, but enjoyed a nice birthday lunch courtesy of my boss and office mates. I came home to an evening of snuggling with the pups in front of the big screen tv, enjoying the homemade chocolate cake my mom made for me. I don’t need fancy parties anymore – it’s enough to have some “me” time.
After all, that’s what birth-days are all about.
And I’m worth celebrating.